


Reunions

by Star_Miya



Series: The Thanalan Tinies on the path of Light and Shadow [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Or worst, and a lot of talking, self-indulgent shit at its best
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22105870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Miya/pseuds/Star_Miya
Summary: Sometimes the Tinies just need to meet up and talk about their adventures.
Relationships: Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV) & Original Character(s)
Series: The Thanalan Tinies on the path of Light and Shadow [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591168
Kudos: 4





	1. Long lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Tinies are reunited after years.

After all these years in Thanalan and Ul'dah every visit in Gridania felt unreal. It resembled an enchanted glade from fairy tales more than an actual city and Arianna was never drawn to fairy tales, especially those with happy endings. They would always feature some poor orphans who saved the world and simpletons who became kings, usually thanks to the help of some magical beings.

Sure, those things could happen in the real world, but they hardly ever ended happily.

Her own tale was that of an outlaw who became a soldier and saw the magical beings who had helped her perish in the war, because life was just like that.

She could not remember the way to the foster house. Not that she cared anyway, but… After the Calamity it took her a while to realize how jumbled the memories of her childhood were. Sometimes she wondered how many of them had gone forever. Hopefully, all the most painful ones. Perhaps that was the main reason why Gridania felt so new and unreal. Perhaps there was nothing to hide from, not anymore. What for? Hells, she was Flame Sergeant Arianna Noirterel of Ul'dah and a proud member of her guild, not just some Duskwight misfit without future.

And she had a score to settle.

The man she was after was not hiding at the market – although she would not be surprised if she found him by the weapon stalls, openly challenging random people to a duel – but since she came here, she might as well check the current fashion trends and weaving materials. For Swiftfingers’ father at the Weavers’ Guild, obviously; he would not bear his craft to be out of date! But before Arianna approached the nearest tailor, her attention was drawn to something else.

Or someone, to be precise.

A woman in a flowing robe was flicking through a ridiculously large grimoire while listening to a talkative shopkeeper and laughing at something he said. That laughter, resounding and melodious, was all too familiar and pierced Arianna’s heart with… hope? Could hope be painful? Or was it fear of being wrong?

Fighting the fear – or hope, or whatever it was – she came closer. Quickly, as if she saw a ghost just about to disappear. Reasonable people would flee from ghosts, but it was her reason that ran away, leaving her behind.

The ghost woman was barely taller than her, but the sea foam colour of her skin gave her away as a Roegadyn. Navy blue hair, bristly and shorter than ever, half her face covered by the fringe – how could she even see the book she was holding?

“How can you even see–“ Arianna spoke before thinking, in a sharp, startled voice, and then bit her lip. Way to go, Rinoire, you’re acting like a child, she scolded herself in her head. But the ghost swept the hair from her face, revealing a pair of golden eyes and a little heart on the left cheek.

Same face, different look. Blank. Confused.

“Spectacles,” she said simply. “I’m wearing spectacles.”

“You don’t say.” Arianna hissed like an angry coeurl; surprisingly, it piqued the Roegadyn’s interest. “For the love of– is that how you greet your long lost sister, Seawalker?”

The ghost handed the grimoire back to the shopkeeper and reached out to Arianna. Carefully, gently, her fingers touched the eye-patch and then the collar of her uniform. Perhaps she wanted to examine the new vessel, like those immortal magical body thieves from the creepiest ballad ever written? Ballads were no better than fairy tales, unless they were composed by Swiftfingers. Once. Long ago.

“Immortal Flames,” said the ghost in a soft, low voice that could surprise anyone who had heard her laugh first. “Aunt Bryngeim told me you had been recruited.” She playfully tugged on one of Arianna's thin braids; finally, the familiar glint of excitement appeared in her eyes. “'Twas good to hear you pay her visits once in a while.”

The Duskwight swallowed. “I... I was at her bonding ceremony, aye. She wanted a bridesmaid and chose me for that role for some reason.” Frankly, one could wish for a better bridesmaid. One who would not intimidate the guests or deliver the shortest and driest of speeches about that thing called love.

Even if Seawalker had learnt about that disaster, she kept it to herself. “I haven't met my new uncle yet,” she said instead, “Heard a lot, though.”

“About him?”

“About myself. 'I was hoping that you had eloped, Herlfryd, that you would bring home a spouse, your time has come' and all that.” She rolled her eyes and startled while speaking her own name – the one she got at birth, before having it twisted by the Ul'dahnians, before getting the new imaginative nickname from the new sister. As if it was unfamiliar to her, in contrast to her aunt's match-making tendencies.

“Eloped from Carteneau? With who, a Garlean officer?” All that Arianna could do after hearing that was hide her face in her hand. And preferably staying like that forever, but there was still a lot to talk about. “Listen, can't we go somewhere quiet?”

“Yes. Gladly.” Seawalker turned to the eavesdropping shopkeeper. “As you see, I do not need another grimoire and since you haven’t given me directions, I found someone who would.” She grabbed Arianna's hand. “Shall we?”

“What? Where do you want to go?”

“Out. Out of the city. I've got lost.”

The Duskwight grumbled – who would get lost in Gridania, of all the... Alright, maybe she should find the way to the foster house first, before saying anything. But then, why bother? The Lancers' Guild was the only place here that really mattered. For now.

* * *

As they were walking through the city, Seawalker dropped the absent-minded stare and started looking around like a wide-eyed child or a consummate gambler who paid their first visit to the Gold Saucer. And somewhere on the way the ice was broken and the feeling of strangeness between the two of them – once travelling companions, friends, family – faded away. For good?

“You know,” said the Roegadyn when the Aetheryte Plaza was within reach, “I've been thinking of Zezelyn's creepy ballad. Remember? The one about the ancient immortal beings who could switch bodies?” She did not stop smiling, but the topic gave Arianna chills. Once again, she felt uneasy. Could that woman hear her thoughts?...

“I do. Why?”

“Because in a moment I'm going to ask whether you're still you.”

“Me?” Arianna stopped and eyed the other woman cautiously. “What makes you say that? Have I changed that much?”

“I don't know.” What a strange reply. “But the real Rinoire sworn to never set foot in Gridania again.”

Only then did the lancer allow herself a sigh of relief. She was waiting for it – the old nickname given her by Swiftfingers, who would always complain about other people's names being too hard to learn. 'Well then, perhaps I have changed a little. Decided I should stop being a coward.” She pointed at the direction where her guildhouse was, more or less. “See, I train here now. I'm accepted.” Her eye squinted. “And that bastard can think of it whatever he wants.”

“Then I'm happy for you, sister.” Seawalker beamed at her; that long-awaited, familiar smile which could bring warmth to any cold place. Or a cold heart. “Now tell me what his name is.”

“Whose name, for Rhalgr's sake?!”

“The bastard who thinks of you. Is he good-looking?”

“Did you just... misinterpret my words in the worst possible way?”

“There is only one way.” Seawalker's grin was wider and wider. “Whatever he did, I can see you look forward to meeting him.”

“I certainly look forward to shoving his own lance up his arse. And you – don't you dare.” Quickly, a change of subject! She could talk about Foulques to her guildmaster, but not to this incorrigible woman, who apparently was still a faithful servant of Menphina. And perhaps took after her aunt more than she would admit. “You better tell me what your deal with that thing is.” She pointed at the 'thing' strapped to the Roegadyn's belt. Another grimoire.

“Oh, this is very simple. I sold my soul for a carbuncle.”

“A stone?”

“A pet. An arcanic pet. I'll show you as soon as we're out of here.”

“That's harder to fathom than my presence in Gridania. How can you do magic? You never did magic before.”

“Told you. My soul. Sold. But seriously... I didn't, did I?”

“Not when I– when we still were the Thanalan Tinies.”

“Aren't we anymore?” Seawalker's smile faded, her expression darkened. “Tinier even than before? Aunt Bryngeim has already told me about Zezelyn. I've been meaning to visit her parents as soon as I get to Ul'dah... and see if anyone at the Goldsmiths' Guild remembers me... And search for you, hadn't you found me first...” Her voice faltered; she turned her eyes away.

“She told you about Swiftfingers?” Arianna clenched her fists in helpless anger. “She told you? As if you weren't there with her, when she was tending to the wounded?”

“Was I?” The Roegadyn's voice was but a whisper. “Did I see her die? Or was I somewhere else? How should I know?” Her expression turned blank again, just like not so long ago.

Arianna walked up and awkwardly wrapped her arm around the other woman's broad shoulders, seating her on the grass next to the aetheryte. Damn it, she was supposed to be angry. She should be angry with that insufferable woman for making her believe she had been dead. And yet, in the end, she could not. “Seven hells, Seawalker, where have you been?”

“Away, Rinoire. Away from Eorzea. I had no idea where I was going...” The familiar glint was slowly coming back into her eyes. “It took me a while to figure it out. Let me tell you, though, 'twas one hell of a journey.”

“You have found your way back here, that's all that matters now.”

“I have found my way... Wait. Wait. I was going to find my way out!” She jumped to her feet. “Damn it, Rinoire, I have to go!”

“To Ul'dah already? I'm sure the goldsmiths will be pleased to have you back, but–“

“No, not yet. I have that one place to investigate...” A long pause, then a wince. “Tam-Something-Deep-Something?”

“...Right. I can see you're ready as hell for that.”

“I beg your pardon, I inspected all nooks and crannies of La Noscea in a company of a stunningly beautiful Miqo'te scholar and didn't get lost even once!”

“Uh-huh.” Arianna got up and patted Seawalker's head. Strangely, she felt like they had never parted. But they had – and suddenly her surrogate sister was trying to pass as an adventurer? Really? “Whatever you've got yourself into, now you're going to be in a company of a piercingly... piercing Elezen soldier, so you don't get lost either. Or killed.”

“Are you saying what I think you're saying?” Seawalker looked at her closely and then wrapped her in a tight hug. “But don't you have something to do here?”

“No.” Arianna hugged her back, her heart lighter than ever. “Foulques can shove his stick up his arse by himself.”

She rushed out to get her chocobo, pursued by her sister's triumphant laugh. They could talk more on the way. After all, they had five years to make up for.


	2. War or Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the goldsmith has become an eikon-slayer and the lancer is not happy about that. In the meantime, some shopping is done.

Not much time passed since their joint exploration of Tam-Tara Deepcroft, but to Arianna it felt like eternity. And like a moment, at the same time. Too long. Too short. Perhaps time was playing tricks on her, or perhaps it was all in her head.

Watching her sister make miracles with that grimoire of hers was indeed astonishing - through her time away from Eorzea, Seawalker had turned into an actual adventurer who could predict her opponents' moves and always be one step ahead of them. Good for her, sure. But everything that had happened later... Arianna only heard stories. Rumours about the Lord of the Inferno risen from the flames to answer the prayers of his worshippers. She had not been there, not seen the woman called Helvi Seawalker slay the alleged god of Amal'jaa, so when they had reunited, all she could do was look closely at the new godslayer in search for any proof. Any sign. Any change.

She had found no such thing.

Except... When asked about adventuring, Seawalker had given her a confused look. "There are more than one way to make people's lives better," she'd said, "Why should I stick to one, if I can do more?"

On what 'more' was, she had not elaborated.

* * *

Today, though, was almost like old times. The two spent a lovely morning at the household of Swiftfingers' parents, exchanging gossip over the plate of almond cream delicious croissants - albeit Master Zezemuchi's tale about Arianna's involvement with the Sunsilk Tapestries might have been a tad embellished. And even though the third sister wasn't there anymore, in a way she still was - in spirit and fond memories - so the Thanalan Tinies could reunite one more time...

And somewhere along the way from the Steps of Nald to the Sapphire Avenue, it got so easy to believe Seawalker had never left. She stormed the market, ransacking the jewellery and metallurgy stalls for high quality materials and chatting with the merchants about the craftwork she had seen overseas. It was fun - and relieving - to see her that happy and giddy about her old trade.

It was no fun, though, to see her go completely broke.

"You know, it wouldn't do you any harm if you haggled a little," Arianna shook her head, "Those people ain't dependent solely on you and won't get famished if you don't overpay them".

But the Roegadyn didn't take her words to heart, deeply convinced the merchants of Ul'dah deserve all her gil. She approached Arianna with a wide grin and a different earring in each hand. "Truly, you are an Immortal Flame," she said fondly, "Bright. Undying. We need to think of a fine set of jewellery that would fit your uniform".

" _We_ need, you say as if you're going to consider my opinion," the Duskwight snorted, "Good to see you back in your element, though. Now that you've rejoined the Goldsmiths' Guild, are you planning to stay in Ul'dah? Or go back to Mist, so your aunt can keep her eyes on you?"

"Neither my aunt, nor the glorious sea can keep me far from my Rinoire and the memories of Zezelyn," her sister laughed and spread her arms, as if she wanted to embrace the whole city, "Not that I haven't got any other options since the Grand Companies invited me to join them, so if I ever change my mind, I-"

Right. That was the other thing Arianna heard about recently. Not a rumour, but a true story confirmed by General Aldynn himself. If it wasn't for the reverence she had for him, he would have been given a piece of her mind and not in a kind way.

"Bloody hells, Seawalker, don't tell me you're considering it. You're no soldier." There was no ill will in these words, just the truth - not because she lacked the required skills, but because she did things in her own pace, which did not go well with taking orders. Not to mention her calling was making things, rather than killing people.

"I know, I know. Which is why I kindly told them to sod off".

"No, you didn't".

"No, I didn't. I gave them my thanks and expressed my concern it would spread discord between them," Seawalker kept smiling playfully, as she continued investigating the jewels and metals in a truly scientific manner.

"Nice try, but they ain't gonna stop asking," Arianna followed her, still concerned, "Unless the Scions claim exclusive rights for you".

"They haven't yet, but it is another good reason to stay in Ul'dah. In case they're in need of me, I won't be far".

"In need of you to do what?" the lancer clenched her fists, ready to defend her sister from the selfsame people who had sent her after Ifrit, "Craft a set of rings or slay another god?"

"Gods cannot be slain so easily. Not for good," the Roegadyn shrugged, giving a vibe of someone who knows everything about the topic, "And we- they suspect that other beast tribes might follow, that someone's been steering them from the shadow-"

"Rhalgr take them and all their suspicions," Arianna could not help but growl, already fed up with this conversation and unable to argue with that consummate do-gooder, "Why did it have to be you?!"

"And why did you stand at Carteneau?"

One question, one simple question made Arianna stifle a gasp. "That wasn't- That-" she stumbled and gritted her teeth. That was just another war, she was meaning to say, with no supernatural factors involved. But she could not utter a lie. There was Dalamud, after all. There was that bloody primal dragon.

Still, she could not contain a surge of anger. Who were they - those Scions or Archons, or whatever they called themselves - to bug her sister about problems too big for her and order her around? What if they were the ones who would turn her into a soldier? And right after her return to Eorzea, before she could even settle down?

"The thing is, I had a choice," she said finally and that was it, that was the whole point of her concern, "Did you?"

"How could I choose to turn my back on them?" the Roegadyn cried out, her voice both sad and irritated. Perhaps mostly sad. "Rinoire, you should see what a primal can do to people - not only to their worshippers, but to anyone around. Those people are... changed. Their minds, twisted forever... There's no way to reverse it, but there's a way to resist it I'm capable of".

"And you ain't the only one, right? Are they looking for more 'venturers with the sixth sense like yours? Or will they just- I don't know, turn you into a one-woman army and say that's enough?!"

The look Seawalker gave her was rueful but determined. The look of someone who cannot stand being useless and tries desperately to change it. As if she didn't know how much good she can to for the world without throwing herself into fight.

She leaned to whisper into Arianna's ear. "Let me tell you a secret," her voice was soft and gentle, easy to soothe anyone's anger. Perhaps even tame a primal.

But it could not fool Flame Sergeant Noirterel, who knew that precious, incorrigible woman all too well. "Oh yeah? Shoot".

"The stall behind you has some fine Nagxian silk".

"WHAT?!" Every concerned thought vanished from the Duskwight's head in an instant, when she turned around and rushed up to the stall in question, to get all the silk she could afford at the moment. On behalf of the Weavers' Guild, obviously; she would not buy any fabrics without showing them the bill.

* * *

"That- that wasn't fair," she said after what felt like a year, glaring at one overjoyed goldsmith, who was carrying two large bags of some suspicious stuff that might have been meant for crafting. She laughed triumphantly and said nothing.

"What are all those materials for? Got that many commissions already?" Arianna asked, intent on giving up on the previous conversation. That was not a topic for a shopping day, not when it could be deflected and forgotten way too easily.

"No, no, don't worry, no one's commissioned me yet," Seawalker said absent-mindedly, "With these, I'm going to craft fine gifts. A magic staff, maybe. A set of knuckles. Goggles that don't cover half of one's pretty face," she went on, completely preoccupied, "Perhaps a gemmed paperweight for Minfilia..."

Ah, those people again. Lovely. Perhaps she did not get along with them as well as she tried to show, if she wanted to bribe them with gifts.

"Finding the right design for Y'shtola is going to be the hardest task," she heaved a somewhat exaggerated sigh, "Something that complements her beauty and doesn't look too showy..."

Arianna sighed too, utterly defeated. "Just pick whatever and set it in a ring. It won't distract you from her face if it's on her finger."

"So it would seem like a bonding proposal? Perish the thought, I would not dare!" Seawalker shook her head, rocking back and forth on heels, "But you, dear sister! Jewellery for you will be no problem, as soon as I get the perfect gemstones I've got in mind!"

"If you say pink tourmalines, I swear I'll-"

"What? Why would I?" this time Seawalker seemed genuinely confused, "I was thinking star sapphires or maybe diamonds."

"The less expensive one. Or else you'll be broke in no time."

The Roegadyn pouted, clearly discontented with the companionship of an ignoramus who does not understand true art. However, her mood changed in a blink, when a new thought popped into her scattered mind.

"It sure would be nice to find some eyes of lightning, though," she flashed an impish grin, "They look almost pink in the right light, so if you wish-"

"No!"


End file.
